


Bitter

by DeskGirlBlushing (DeskGirl)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bondage, Branding, Choking, Deepthroating, Explicit Language, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sex Toys, Spanking, Strangulation, Strap-Ons, Torture, Trans Genji Shimada, Vibrators, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 11:52:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeskGirl/pseuds/DeskGirlBlushing
Summary: An unofficial sequel toSugarby BullfinchsSinBin, in which Jesse, frustrated at being shown up by his new Blackwatch teammate Genji, visited him during maintenance when Genji’s cybernetic body was undergoing maintenance (check all the tags before reading Sugar. Content is explicit and involves non-con as well). Bitter takes place a month later. Genji has had time to nurse his wounds, and has come up with a plan to get even.Please check all tags before reading.





	Bitter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rifa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rifa/gifts), [BullfinchsSinBin (Bullfinch)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bullfinch/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sugar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339724) by [BullfinchsSinBin (Bullfinch)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bullfinch/pseuds/BullfinchsSinBin). 



> [Sugar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339724) was written by BullfinchsSinBin as a birthday gift to his friend Rifa, fulfilling a particular request for bondage sex via immobility of Genji's cybernetic body. I liked the idea of Genji getting some form of retribution, and crafted this sequel as a gift of sorts to BullFinch and Rifa.

     McCree woke up cold, naked, and restrained. He was bent over a table, his wrists tied down to the legs on the far side. The sharp edge of the table pressed into his stomach painfully, which was probably what finally woke him up. His shoulders were aching, too. He’d been in that position for a while.

     McCree got his feet up under himself, and straightened his legs to lift his stomach off the table. Now that he had a minute, he tried to figure out what was going on. Looking around, he could tell this was one of Blackwatch’s interrogation rooms. The sort that was just a big concrete box with a drain in the floor—not even a two-way mirror in the wall, because what happened here wasn’t supposed to be seen.

     How did he get here in the first place? McCree knew the answer before he’d even finished asking himself the question. Anyone determined enough could get into his quarters. From there it was just a matter of picking any one of the several bottles lying around, already opened and half-drunk; spike it, and leave it out somewhere convenient so McCree would grab that one first when he came back to relax.

     “You are rather careless, McCree,” someone behind him said, as if reading his thoughts. McCree craned his head to look back over his shoulder, his arms protesting.

     Genji.

     Well of course it’d be Genji. McCree had to be honest with himself: he’d been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he visited Genji during software maintenance last month. He’d expected it a lot sooner, though, and some dumb part of him had thought Genji would make it a fair fight. Despite his family’s reputation, Genji had seemed like the straight forward type. Focused and direct. McCree had guessed wrong, apparently.

     McCree pulled on a tight smile, knowing full well his current position: naked with his ass in the air. “I thought that Jack Daniels tasted kind of bitter. Gotta say I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had it in you to do something like this. Guess I learned my lesson, huh?”

     “Not yet you haven’t,” Genji said. “But when I am done with you, then perhaps, yes.”

     “Lookin’ for a little payback?” McCree shifted his weight slowly, trying to alleviate the pressure on his arms while figuring out what kind of range of movement he had. “You gonna do to me what I did to you?” He twisted his wrists. There was no give. No room to wriggle them free.

     “No. But you are going to wish I had.” Genji’s tone was cold. Sharp in a way that cut deep, but the pain didn’t set in all at once. McCree put on a brave face, but something tightened in his gut.

     Genji moved quietly, but in the absolute silence of the interrogation room, McCree could still tell exactly where he was as he walked behind him. Smaller objects or tools knocked around on a table behind him to his right. McCree craned his head the other way to try and get a glimpse, but Genji was standing in the way.

     When Genji turned around, he had a gag in his hand. The sort that looked like the bit to a horse’s bridle. McCree realized, with a sort of grim amusement, that there was no way Genji had already owned that thing. He’d bought it just for McCree. It almost made him feel special.

     “That for me? Well darlin’, you shouldn’t have. I don’t need no fancy gifts. You want my attention, all you gotta do is take me out to dinner.”

     “You talk entirely too much, McCree.”

     “So I’ve been told,” he said as he tried to roll his shoulder to work out a kink. “It’s a bad habit. But I do love my little bad habits.”

     “I know. That’s how you ended up like this, remember? Maybe you should rethink your bad habits.” As Genji spoke, he gripped the back of McCree’s head firmly. “Now. You can open your mouth for me, or I can pry it open. Which will it be?”

     McCree clenched his jaw for a moment. He knew he wasn’t going to win this. “Suck my—” The bit slid between his teeth, and the strap tightened around his head sharply.

     McCree let out a grunt as the bar pulled back the corners of his mouth. He felt his lip crack. Genji’s hand laid across the back of his head, over the buckle of the gag. Then it slid up into McCree’s hair and fisted there. He gave it a yank, and twisted McCree’s head sideways so they could look each other in the eye.

     “You mentioned learning a lesson. I’m going to teach you a valuable one today, McCree: that crossing me was a mistake.”

     McCree responded by pulling in his leg and kicking back hard. His heel connected with metal. He flinched, but kicked Genji again anyways. A hand caught his ankle. His leg was slowly lifted up until he lost his balance and collapsed onto the table.

     “I see. That is how you’re going to be then. I cannot say I wasn’t hoping for you to fight back.” Genji let go of his ankle and walked away. McCree shifted back onto his feet, and tugged at his restraints again. He heard Genji coming up behind him. He tried to twist away, but there was nowhere to go.

     Genji grabbed hold of his ankle again, and pulled it to the right. Something cold snapped shut around it. A maglock restraint. Then Genji yanked McCree’s other foot to the left. He’d had his weight on that foot, and dropped hard onto the table again with a grunt. Another restraint closed around his other ankle.  The panic began to set in.

     McCree shoved the side of his face against his shoulder in an instinctive attempt to get the gag off. Futile, but he had to try. He glanced over his shoulder. Genji was at the table again. McCree heard something metallic. Heavy. Then a sound that made his gut clench. He knew what a fucking blowtorch sounded like.

     Out of the corner of his eye, McCree could see Genji’s back, and past that, the light of a flame silhouetting him ominously. What was he doing? Was that… a metal rod?

    A muffled noise escaped around McCree’s gag, sounding more like an animal than a man. He wouldn’t. There was no way he’d do something like that. Genji was just trying to scare him.

     Genji turned and held up the red-hot brand for McCree to see. The glow matched his eyes. They pierced McCree. Pinned him down like an insect.

     McCree writhed desperately, trying one last time to break free as Genji walked over. His heart pounded hard in his chest. A cool prosthetic hand pressed at the small of his back. In contrast, the heat of the brand, even several inches away, washed over the back of McCree’s legs threateningly. He went completely still.

     “It took a while for me to decide what to do about you, McCree,” Genji said. “I wanted to act brashly. The dishonor I suffered at your hands was great; I wanted to soak my sword with your blood for your insolence. But I realized eventually that I want more than just revenge. I want you to suffer. I want to make sure you know never to do something like that again, and that takes more work. You’re stubborn. Stupid. Slow to change. I haven’t been here long, but even I can see that. Whatever I do to you must have permanence.” Genji’s last words carried a terrible weight to them made real by the nearly painful heat at McCree’s back.

     McCree shook his head and let out a begging noise. Don’t do this! Don’t!

     The heat drifted up the back of McCree’s legs to his ass. McCree’s breathing turned fast and shallow. This wasn’t happening. This _couldn’t_ be happening.

     “I know my place, Jesse McCree. Now I will show you yours.”

     The brand pressed to McCree’s flesh. Pain like he’d never felt before blossomed from the spot just below his hip. Suddenly he couldn’t think; the pain was too overwhelming. A muffled scream ripped itself from his throat before he realized it was happening, the sound guttural and raw. His body writhed as the brand burned deep.

     McCree didn’t realize at first when the brand was pulled away. The burning persisted. It radiated out from the point of contact like the red hot metal was inside his skin now. He tried to suck air back into his lungs, but it kept escaping in short sobs. The corners of his eyes pricked.

     Genji had really fucking done it. McCree couldn’t process anything beyond that. Genji had actually branded him.

     Genji rounded the table and stood there, cooling metal rod in hand. McCree glared straight ahead as he tried to control his breathing. When he refused to look up, Genji crouched down to look McCree in the eyes.

     “You did this to yourself, you know.” McCree would have liked to argue that he clearly had not, but he wasn’t in a position to argue. “Do you want to see what it looks like?” Genji lifted the brand and tilted it towards McCree. He could feel the warmth on his face.

     The brand was some sort of kanji with a circle around it. “I designed it for you personally. It says ‘ _inu’._ It means dog, because that’s what you are, McCree. You’re a stray mutt, desperate for your master’s attention and nipping at the heels of those whom you feel threatened by. You think you are my equal? Laughable.” Genji’s expression darkened. “You belong on your hands and knees at the end of a short leash. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

     Genji walked away, leaving McCree to his pain. Distantly, McCree heard a splash and a hiss as Genji disposed of the iron rod. He tried to relax, but he couldn’t. The very center of the burn felt numb, but everything around it throbbed. He felt like he’d been slapped on the ass by the devil himself.

     Speaking of whom, Genji had returned. Hadn’t he already gotten what he wanted? Wasn’t he done? No, why would he be? McCree had taken his sweet time with Genji when their positions were reversed, so why would Genji let him off the hook so easily? Genji reached over, and McCree felt his hand run down his back. It was an oddly comforting touch—completely out of place and disorienting. It was followed by the feeling of something cool and wet spraying across the burn on McCree’s ass. He made a questioning noise around the gag.

     “I want the brand to heal well,” Genji said. “It wouldn’t do for it to become infected. The medical spray will help. Besides, I don’t want the burning to distract you from everything else I’m going to do to you.” Genji reached down and grabbed hold of McCree’s manhood in an uncaring, callous sort of way, then let go. 

     Genji clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “That won’t do.” What wouldn’t do? What the fuck was Genji planning now?

     McCree felt Genji’s fingers behind his head, doing something to the strap of the gag. The buckle came undone, and the strap loosened. McCree wrenched his head sideways, and twisted free. The bit dropped out of his mouth onto the table, coated in spit. McCree stretched his jaw with a groan, then immediately fell to cussing.

     “Fffuck! You crazy son of a bitch! You think you can fuckin’ do this to me? I’ll skin you alive, you bastard!” McCree jerked and pulled at his restraints. “You get the hell away from me, or they’re not gonna find enough of you to fill a match box! I swear I’m gonna—ghk!” Genji had shoved two fingers into McCree’s mouth.

     McCree bit down. No good. It was Genji’s robotic hand. His fingers had the faint taste of rubber, metal, and disinfectant. Like a hospital. Like a tool freshly cleaned of blood.

     The pads of the fingers rubbed along McCree’s tongue, then pressed down. Slowly—agonizingly—the fingers spread, forcing his jaw open. More fingers slid into his mouth, prying it wider until McCree let out a pained grunt. Then a metal ring was shoved between his teeth, replacing the fingers. The strap of the ring gag cinched around his head before he had a chance to spit it out.

     “I think this is a good compromise, don’t you?” Genji asked. “Now you can be as noisy as you want, but I don’t have to listen to your inane words.” He slid a finger into McCree’s open mouth experimentally. McCree tried to push it out with his tongue, but it was useless. The finger explored his mouth, heedless of his protests. Genji pulled his hand back, then reached over McCree’s shoulder to pick something up off the table. It was a little packet. McCree recognized it because it was his.

     Genji pulled a thin tab from the pack, then slid it into McCree’s mouth. Two fingers pressed down on his tongue until the strip dissolved. McCree tried to drool to get as much of the stuff out of his mouth as he could without swallowing it, but Genji’s hand clamped over his mouth.

     “What’s the matter, McCree? Don’t you want to play anymore? You couldn’t get enough the last time we were alone.” Genji leaned in close to his ear. “How many times did you come? How many times did you use and humiliate me?”

     Genji pulled his hand away after a minute, apparently satisfied that the drug had had time to start working. He went back to that table of his. McCree didn’t want to look this time. He tried to ignore the drug-induced arousal coiling in his gut, but the more he tried to ignore it, the more insistent the feeling became.

      Genji was behind him again. McCree wasn’t surprised by the slick finger that pressed into him. It made sense that Genji would do this to him now. He didn’t want it, but it made sense. McCree breathed out slowly and as quietly as he could. His breath hitched when a second finger joined the first almost immediately. It ached a little. It was too fast. The fingers twisted and started to pump before he was ready; the ache turned to burning.

     “It’s unfortunate for you, McCree,” Genji said—and here Genji was the one saying that McCree talked too much. “You don’t have the same advantages I do. I suppose I should be thankful for this body in a way. Your sensitivity can’t be increased. Your nerves can’t be shut off. You can only endure what I am about to do to you. What is that American saying? Cowboy up?” His tone was smug; McCree wanted to punch him. A third finger worked its way into McCree’s ass, and he let out a groan. He hadn’t been fucked in a long time; his body wasn’t ready for this. It hurt.

“Look at the way your body strains. You’re so tense. If you would only relax, this would be easier on you.” The fingers scissored and stretched. As Genji worked him open, McCree felt himself getting hard against his will. He pressed his face against the cool table as he prayed for some kind of relief.

     Then the fingers left him. McCree slumped on the table, feeling cold and empty. He didn’t have time to rest, though, as something large and round pressed against his asshole. It spread him wide—wider than Genji’s fingers had. McCree’s legs strained, and gasps of pain escaped him as it pushed in slowly but surely. A hand squeezed his ass cheek, spreading it wider for the object to go in. Then suddenly it was inside him, and he felt the flared base of the buttplug against his ass.

     McCree moaned pitifully. He felt overstretched and understimulated at the same time. His cock ached, but he couldn’t do anything about it, and something told him Genji wasn’t about to either.

     “Are you ready for the next part of your punishment, McCree?” Genji asked. McCree turned his head to the side to look. Genji had—was that one of his sword sheaths in his hand? Was he going to fuck him with that or something? McCree rolled his eyes at Genji in response. Genji’s expression turned cold. “I want you to know that I don’t believe in hitting animals, but I’m going to make an exception for you.”

     Okay, so Genji was planning to flog him. Well that wasn’t so bad. McCree knew how to take a beating; he could handle this.

     McCree saw the sheath lift in his peripheral, and waited for it to come down across his back or his shoulders. He hoped Genji would avoid his kidneys. He didn’t want to end up in the med bay explaining how he ruptured an organ, and oh yeah that brand is new, thanks for noticing.

     McCree didn’t expect the slap to the back of his thighs. It startled a yelp out of him. The sheath hit him again, slightly higher. He choked down another shout. The sheath struck again, twice in quick succession. Still across his upper thighs. The force of the blows sent jolts of pain up through the sensitive, burned skin on his backside. His body tensed, and his insides squeezed the plug unintentionally. McCree made a noise halfway between a whimper and a moan.

     Genji was spanking him. Of all the embarrassing, ridiculous things to do. Even if McCree could speak, he wouldn’t be able to come up with the words to express his indignation. He was a grown-ass man. How dare this bastard spank him like he was an unruly child.

     McCree let out a rumbling growl from deep in his chest. That earned him a smack across the ass. McCree cried out as the sheath hit the base of the plug, and the entire right side of his body flared up in pain. Son of a bitch.

     “You do not growl at me, dog,” Genji threatened. The sheath struck McCree’s thighs again. “Do you understand?” McCree made an unintelligible noise around the gag, but it sounded more than a little like sarcasm. Genji struck him again, close to the place where his thighs and cheeks met. McCree flinched. “Do you understand?” Genji repeated. McCree was still for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he breathed. Then he nodded.

     “Good.”

     The spanking continued. Genji varied his technique; he changed the strength of his blows, where they fell, and how often. McCree couldn’t predict the next one. He tried to stay quiet. That’s all he could do. He couldn’t stop Genji, but at least he could deny him the satisfaction of crying and yelling about it. But as the spanking went on and the skin became tender and sore, McCree’s control started to slip. Sharp, biting pain mixed with a dull ache across his entire backside—not to mention a painful erection—making it hard for him to think past the next strike of the sheath. McCree’s panting turned to gasps, then choked cries. His mind went blank. Anger and fear faded to the background of his mind as he struggled just to endure. His skin was hot against the cool table that dug into his abdomen. His legs shook.

     Finally it stopped. At first McCree thought Genji was toying with him. Waiting for him to think it was over before the next blow fell. His own breathing was loud in his ear, and he realized distantly that he was sobbing. His face was wet with tears. When had he started crying?

     “I think that’s enough,” Genji said as he walked away. “I have to say: you did surprisingly well. It’s too bad you don’t have that kind of endurance in our training sessions. You might win once in a while.”

     McCree’s breath hitched when a hand ran over his thigh, lighting up the sensitive nerves. The hand ran up his side and along his arm as Genji came into view. He was wearing a strap-on. Black leather wrapped around his waist and thighs, securing six inches of matching black silicone in place. Genji stroked his cock languidly.

     “What do you think, McCree? You have a big mouth, but I think this will fill it nicely.” Genji cupped McCree’s chin. He swiped his thumb through the drool dripping from McCree’s mouth, and ran it across his bottom lip. Then he climbed up on the table between McCree’s outstretched arms. Genji sat down in front of McCree’s face, and unceremoniously shoved his cock in McCree’s mouth.

     McCree made a muffled noise, and tried to pull his head back. His nostrils flared as he breathed hard through his nose. Genji laid a hand on the back of his head, and held McCree still as he started rocking his hips. His eyes were turned downwards, watching his own cock dip into McCree’s mouth over and over.

     Genji’s dick slid further in with each thrust until it hit the back of McCree’s throat, and he gagged. His whole body jerked as he tried to pull away, but Genji’s hand held him like steel. His cock pressed against the back of McCree’s throat insistently now.

     “Take it, McCree,” Genji hissed. His fingers twisted in McCree’s hair, and yanked. McCree had only a split second to breathe in and relax before he felt Genji’s cock slide down his throat. Genji’s hips rocked as he eased himself in as deep as he could go. McCree’s throat convulsed as he tried to gag, and his eyes watered.

     McCree’s nose brushed the plating of Genji’s crotch. Then Genji pulled back until just the head sat on McCree’s tongue. McCree coughed hard, his lungs burning—and remembered the plug still in his ass as his inner walls tightened around it. He groaned. He was still hard, and hadn’t been touched once since Genji palmed him earlier.

     “What’s wrong, McCree?” Genji asked. “Are you not having fun?” He rocked his hips, his spit-slick cock sliding along McCree’s tongue. “Because I can do this for hours.”

     McCree whined quietly. He knew Genji wasn’t lying. The question was, would he follow through? McCree’s whole body hurt. He was stretched out in every direction, sore, and abused. Mentally, he was wearing down fast. And Genji liked to take his time; it was maddening. Everything was so drawn out. Couldn’t he just fuck McCree and be done with it already?

     Genji’s cock slid deep into his mouth again, which pretty much answered McCree’s question. It pressed back into his sore throat, and he choked a little as he struggled to take it. Genji seemed to like that because he started moving his hips in long, lingering thrusts that plunged deep into McCree’s throat over and over.

     McCree focused on pulling in breaths whenever he could while keeping his throat relaxed. Still, he couldn’t keep from choking on the cock in his mouth now and then, spit dripping from his mouth and pooling on the table under his head. He’d begun to get dizzy when Genji finally pulled out of his mouth entirely.

     “Good dog,” Genji said, his voice low and his gaze intent. His damp cock pressed against the side of McCree’s face. “Are you ready for me to move on?”

     McCree let out a rough sound. He wasn’t sure if he was complaining or agreeing, but he’d certainly like to have Genji’s dick out of his mouth at least. 

     Genji slid off the table and walked out of sight. McCree gasped as the buttplug was pulled out. Even that nearly sent him over the edge. His erection ached something awful.

     McCree felt Genji’s lube-slicked cock slide between his ass cheeks as Genji ground against him. McCree let out an irritated grunt; he was in no mood to be played with. A hand grabbed his right ass cheek and squeezed. The burned skin just above it flared to life with pain. McCree yelped.

     “I told you not to growl,” Genji said. “If you’re going to be disobedient, I’ll beat you again. Do you understand?”

     McCree’s stomach flipped unpleasantly. He nodded. He felt Genji pull away, and then his cock pressed against McCree’s entrance.

     It wasn’t any bigger than the plug had been, but it was longer. McCree had trouble staying relaxed as he felt himself being stretched. He breathed loudly through his mouth as Genji slowly pushed in until he was flush against McCree’s ass.

     A hand pressed on the small of McCree’s back. It rubbed circles there for a moment as Genji and McCree both held still. There it was again: that odd gentleness that made this all feel so much worse than a regular fucking would. McCree’s breath hitched.

     Then Genji pulled out and began to thrust. He started shallow—teasing McCree. He’d push in deep, then pull out and go back to shallow thrusts. Heat coiled low in McCree’s abdomen, the pressure building until it was overwhelming. Two deep thrusts in a row, and he came with a moan, his hips digging into the table edge.

     Genji let out a disapproving noise, and went still with his cock deep inside McCree. McCree could feel his insides pulsing around it. He pressed his cheek to the table, still damp with his drool, and tried to catch his breath.

     “Really? So soon? I haven’t even touched you. Are you so desperate to be fucked, McCree?” Genji asked in a scolding tone. “You’re that hungry for my attention and my cock?”

     Genji bent over, his cybernetic body heavy across McCree’s back. His fingers dipped into McCree’s mouth. McCree realized too late that they tasted unnaturally bitter: he’d stuck another strip in his mouth.

     Genji lifted his weight off of McCree, and his hand trailed from McCree’s mouth to his neck. Fingers pressed against the sides of McCree’s throat, just under his chin. Then Genji started to thrust again, staying deep inside McCree as he waited for him to get hard.

     McCree whimpered in the back of his throat. The pain of being stretched had faded away, but each time Genji rocked his hips against McCree, he felt the sting of the fresh brand. And he was beginning to get lightheaded. He could breathe fine, but he felt like he wasn’t getting enough air: Genji’s fingers were pressed into the arteries in his neck, cutting off circulation to his brain.

     Genji’s robotic hand pressed against McCree’s back again as he braced himself and began to thrust harder, pulling almost all the way out now before pushing in again.

     McCree moaned helplessly at the rough treatment. Things were getting hazy. It was becoming harder and harder to tell pain from pleasure anymore. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his hands scrabbled at the smooth surface of the table. On the verge of passing out, he let out a desperate, keening sound, wordlessly begging Genji to ease up.

     The hand released his neck, but the thrusting only became more intense. And then McCree felt Genji’s hand wrap around his neglected cock. McCree moaned. Being touched after so long nearly brought him to tears. Each time Genji slammed into him, it drove him forward into the table and Genji’s hand. McCree felt another orgasm building, and let it crash over him without a fight. He arched against the restraints and Genji’s solid body as he rode it out.

     When McCree finally collapsed against the table, Genji slowed to a stop and pulled out.

     McCree listened without moving as Genji unbuckled his harness. Then he felt the strap of his gag being loosened. He held still as Genji pulled the ring out of his mouth. McCree licked his lips, and felt his jaw protest instantly.

     “What… now…?” McCree asked slowly, careful to move his mouth as little as possible. Genji held up another strip from the pack. McCree frowned. “No,” he said.

     Genji shook his head. “You don’t have a choice. I’m not done with you yet.” He stuck the strip in McCree’s mouth. McCree’s jaw hurt too much to try and clamp his mouth shut or fight back.

     “I’m.. gonna kill you,” McCree said weakly.

     He saw the corners of Genji’s eyes wrinkle. Was that fucker smiling? Did he think McCree was kidding?

     Genji walked away. “Hey. You get back here,” McCree demanded, the side of his face still pressed to the table.

     “I’m not going anywhere, McCree,” Genji said from just behind him. Then McCree cried out as the buttplug was pushed back into his abused hole.

     “Take that out!” McCree demanded. With renewed energy, he lifted himself up and tried to slip one of his hands free, twisting them in their bonds. His body stiffened as the plug started to vibrate.

     McCree clenched his aching jaw, and breathed through his teeth. Pulses of pleasure rolled up his spine against his wishes. He was half-hard again already, and he hated it.

     “You’ve—” McCree swallowed thickly and tried again. “You’ve had your fun, Genji. Turn it off.”

     “You don’t get to make demands. _I’m_ in charge.” Metal scraped across concrete as Genji dragged a chair around. He set it in front of McCree a few feet away, then sat down. He had a small remote in one hand. McCree watched as he used his other hand to manually retract the cover over his groin.

     “However,” Genji said thoughtfully, “please feel free to beg.”

     As Genji began to masturbate, he pressed a button on the remote. McCree heard it click, and the vibrator sped up. Just a little. Enough to get a gasp out of him.

     “Genji, come on, don’t do this. Enough’s enough,” McCree said. His voice was rough. It cracked as he spoke.

     McCree squirmed as he watched Genji stroke and finger himself. Genji pushed the vibrator up another level, and McCree jumped. His mouth hung open as he panted. He tried to shift position only for the plug to push against his prostate. McCree shuddered. “You need to stop,” He tried again. “Stop this now—ah!” Two clicks. The pulsing of the vibrator turned intense. McCree couldn’t talk anymore; every breath became a cry or a moan. His hips rolled uselessly.

     “Genji—Genji please!” McCree begged. Genji’s only response was to click the remote one more time as his other hand pumped faster. McCree keened as the vibrations became near unbearable. He tried to curl up. Tucked his head in, and pressed his forehead against the table as the vibrator slowly brought him to orgasm.

     McCree let out a sound like a howl as he came. The third orgasm verged on painful from the overstimulation; lights exploded behind McCree’s eyelids. The vibrator kept going even as his body strained and trembled with exertion, waves of pleasure rolling over him. McCree’s legs gave out, and he slumped, boneless, on the table. A click, and the plug stopped vibrating.

     Over the top of his own gasps, McCree heard Genji moan. He tilted his head in time to see Genji, his body taut and shaking as he climaxed, his red eyes fixed on McCree.

     Genji relaxed and took his time getting his breath back. McCree tried to pull himself together—this might not be the end of it, after all. But his mind was frayed, just like every nerve in his body. He was too scattered to do or say anything as Genji walked up to him. He just laid there and waited for whatever came next.

     Genji pulled the plug out first. Then he disengaged the maglock restraints. That confused McCree.

     “I scheduled this room for another half hour,” Genji said coolly. He drew a knife that looked like it matched his swords, and began cutting the bonds that held McCree’s arms down. “You’ll want to be out of here by then.”

     “The fuck?” McCree asked eloquently. He tried to move his arms and regretted it immediately. His shoulders flared with pain, and his fingers pricked as the blood flowed back into them. His legs felt like jelly. There was no way he was going to be able to stand any time soon. He finally started to get the gist of Genji’s words.

     Genji continued cleaning. He took a pile of clothes—McCree’s gym sweats—and dropped them into the chair in front of McCree. A first aid kit was set on top.

     Genji stopped and regarded McCree. “You’re scheduled for a breach-and-clear simulation tomorrow, aren’t you? I’ll tell Reyes you got food poisoning. That should buy you a few days.”

     “Fuck you,” McCree said. He was tired, and it showed in his voice. He and Genji both knew that he wasn’t going to tell anyone what just happened, least of all their commanding officer.

     Genji wagged a finger admonishingly. “That’s what got you into this situation in the first place, McCree. Don’t forget that. You have thirty minutes. If you don’t want anyone to see you hobbling around, then I suggest you take the maintenance hall on the south side back to the barracks. Less traffic.” Then he gathered up his things and left. The door closed with a heavy thud behind him.

     McCree was alone, just like that. Branded, bruised, and used; McCree slowly eased himself off the table to the floor with a groan where he curled up on his side to recover. 

***

     Two weeks passed. Reyes bought the food poisoning excuse. Dr. Ziegler tried to check in on McCree, insistent that he’d be better cared for in the med bay than on his own in his bunk, but McCree managed to shake her.

     The first few days had been rough: moving was painful, but so was lying still. There was no way to get comfortable, and McCree couldn’t drink or sleep the pain off—not entirely anyway. He had to stick to cold showers until his burn stopped hurting.

     The brand was healing surprisingly well. Either the damage wasn’t as bad as McCree had thought, or it had something to do with the spray and the first aid kit Genji left behind. He wanted to be thankful, but he was still livid it happened at all.

     McCree stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, checking his injuries after his first lukewarm shower in half a month. When he’d managed to drag himself back to his room that day, he’d been in bad shape. His thighs were covered in dark purple welts, and the table had left a solid bruise across his abdomen. He’d rubbed himself raw where the restraints held him, too. The burn was dark—nearly black—with irritated red skin all around. By now most of the bruising was gone, except for some discolored spots on the back of McCree’s legs, and while the brand would definitely scar, it was looking a hell of a lot better.

     McCree’s hand hovered over the reddened skin. He still couldn’t quite believe Genji had done it to him. He never would have pegged Genji as the sort of person who could torture someone—then again, he’d had a pretty strong incentive. McCree remembered that look in his eyes. Like Genji was smoldering on the inside, and at any moment the fire might escape and swallow up everything around him. The man in that interrogation room had been a different person than the one McCree sparred with. If he’d wanted to, he could have broken McCree. He’d gotten off easy, and he knew it.

     With no small amount of embarrassment McCree glanced down and realized he was half-hard. He flushed in shame. He’d always liked a bit of risk, but that was nothing to go getting riled up about. Although, had he ever really been in a situation like that, so utterly helpless in the presence of someone so dangerous? What had happened was awful, and yet…

     McCree thought back to that day: The way he’d felt, how Genji had touched him, the things he’d said. McCree’s hand drifted to his cock, and he started stroking.

_A hand fisting in his hair and yanking his head back._

_His arms aching._

_His legs spread wide._

_A hand running up his bruised thigh._

_“Take it, McCree.”  
_

_Dizzy —lightheaded—sensitive—too full—too much—  
_

_“Are you so desperate to be fucked?”  
_

McCree’s hand pumped, and he leaned forward against the mirror, bracing himself with his arm. Heat rose up in his face as he remembered his humiliation. He’d been spanked. Silenced. Choked on Genji’s cock. Been forced to come for Genji’s viewing pleasure multiple times. With the shame came a sort of thrill that McCree was loathe to acknowledge.

    _"You don’t have a choice.”_

_“You’re that hungry for my attention?”_

_His body taut and shaking, his eyes fixed on McCree._

_“Good dog.”  
_

     McCree buried his face in the crook of his arm as he came. His hips stuttered forward into his hand and then stilled as his orgasm hit him hard.

     “Damn,” McCree murmured. He’d closed his eyes. He kept them shut for a moment, then forced himself to look. The man in the mirror was disheveled and ruddy-faced, chest heaving, cock going limp in his hand. He couldn’t quite look himself in the eyes. Maybe Genji hadn’t been too far off when he called him a dog.


End file.
